A flash of dark hair catches my attention, and my heart catapults to the back of my throat. Is that Rose? The woman is with Ned, and she disappears through anEmployees Onlydoor before I can tell for sure.
I shake my head slightly, resuming my trek to the locker room and trying to quell my hammering heart. It probably wasn’t her. This woman was in a black jacket, not the custom one I had made. Though, would Rose wear my jacket after I told her I never wanted to see her again? Probably not.
A twinge of sadness prickles behind my eyes, and I have to swallow down a surge of emotions. Because here’s the thing. In spite of it all—in spite of the way Rose lied and was working for my mother all this time—I still wish she were here.
After my conversation with my teammates last week and my meeting with my mother, I have mentally gone over every second of Rose’s and my relationship, past and present, and knowing what I know now, I can see there was more going on than I understood. Which means Rose’s actions were more nuanced than I allowed for when I was losing it in the restaurant. Yes, she hurt me with her deceit, but with a little distance and perspective, I can see her side of things.
I need to talk to her.
I wish shewashere.
But I doubt she actually is. I’ll ask Ned later.
I keep my face neutral. I’ve got a game to win.
By the second quarter, our offense is firing on all cylinders. We scored on an eight play, eighty-seven-yard drive during which I went five for five on passing completions and put the cherry on top with a twenty-yard touchdown to Poe on a crossing route in the end zone.
“Heck of a ball, 4.” Poe taps his helmet to mine as we jog to the sidelines after the on-field celebration.
“You make me look good, man,” I return the compliment.
Del runs by and screams something incoherent, making us both laugh.
I’m feeling good, and not even catching sight of my mother in my box can sink my spirits. She’s been on my case all week, trying to—in her words—“talk some sense into me“ about the whole idea of abdication. She keeps reminding me that football isn’t forever. I’m so sick of it, but I can hardly put her on a plane and send her back to Penwick.
Duke, for his part, has been kept out of our family conversations. I keep trying to get my mom to sit down, the three of us, but she refuses. She’s called him some nasty names, and she’s accused him of brainwashing me into giving up my position for him.
“You’re enough of a people pleaser to do it!”she yelled during one particularly scintillating conversation.
Her words landed, but they had the opposite of her intended effect. Ihavebeen a people pleaser, and I do like it when everyone around me is happy. So much so that I’ve considered ruining my own life and happiness for the sake of serving Penwick. But I drew a hard line, and I’m sticking to it. Is it awful to feel like I’m letting her down? Yes. It chafes. But I know it’s for the best. I’m well on my way to being aformerpeople pleaser.
My gaze lingers on my mom. She’s not paying attention to me or the game. She’s talking to Charles. As if they can sense me watching them, they both look up, and our gazes connect. I bob my head in acknowledgement, and Charles returns the gesture. I don’t get so much as a quirk of the lips from my own mother.
I swing my gaze over the rest of the stands. It’s stupid, but I’m looking for Rose. I have a weird sense that she’s close by. I don’t get a chance to dwell on the idea because I’m called into a meeting with my QB coach and Jones, my backup. We go over the defense we saw on the last drive and prep for the next one.
We manage to convert a field goal just before half. We only had fifty seconds with the ball. I would have liked to score another touchdown, but points are points, and we head into the locker room up twenty-four to three.
I’ll take it.
The second half is more of the same, and once again, by mid-way through the fourth quarter, the coach has Jones in, and he’s resting my arm.
I shouldn’t complain. It’s good to be winning by such huge margins that I can afford the time off the field, but it makes me antsy. Fortunately, the guys on the sideline keep things interesting. We’ve got friendly bets placed on which second stringers are going to score. We’re each pulling for our own player, and that helps pass the time.
“If Jones QB-sneaks this and scores, y’all owe me dinner,” Kennedy drawls. He points at me because my guy is our backup running back, and I wagered at the start of the drive that if he wasn’t the one to score, I would buy whoever did dinner.
“You’re on. It’s play action. He’s going to hand it off.” I’m ninety-five percent confident. Although… “Then again, the defense is playing soft on the weak side. If he fakes the hand off, he could roll out and…”
We watch the play unfold, and sure enough, Jones rolls out and sprints to the goal line. The defenders come up and try to stuff him. We all cringe at the contact, but after the refs confer at the goal line, they signal a touchdown.
“My boy!” Kennedy starts leaping around like a maniac. “Steak dinner, sucker. One hundred fifty dollars a plate.”
I can’t even be mad. It was a great play call, and I’m happy to see Jones do well. Not that I want competition for my job, per se. But iron sharpens iron. And Roy Jones is a good man. He deserves all the success in the world.
When the time on the clock reads zero, our second-string offense has notched two more touchdowns. Our second-string defense has given up three scores, so the final score makes it look like a closer game than it really was, but still. We’ll take a 38-24 victory at this juncture in the season, no questions asked.
Erin wants to interview Poe instead of me, so I’m free to head back to the locker room with the rest of the team.
“There’s a new steakhouse on the far side of town, 4. I say we try it out.” Kennedy jogs off the field next to me.
